


Genetic Probability

by seaqueen



Series: Through Stained Glass Eyes [1]
Category: Doom (2005), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, BAMF Bones, Crossover, M/M, Not-fluff, Unhappy Ending, break-up, idk how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:19:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaqueen/pseuds/seaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Masks come in all shapes and sizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Guardian

**Author's Note:**

> I fell in love with Reaper!Bones a long time ago the very first time I ever saw Doom. It wasn't my favorite movie; (but I watch it for Karl, of course I did) but the scene where John acted as a medic really grabbed me for some reason. I'd seen crossover fics for the two 'verses before and decided to try my hand at it. Cross posted to LJ and FF.net.

Masks. Everyone always wears a mask, and John Grimm is no different. It’s evolved over the years and he’s perfected it a little more each day. The violence and the anger, buried further and further beneath the biting wit and sarcasm. He wears a mask to protect himself, and to protect others. Solider, doctor, lawyer, cop, fireman. All in some way there to save others. And if a couple of street punks stealing from an old lady turn up beaten and bloody babbling about a cold-eyed man? Well, that’s not part of the job description.

John Grimm walks alone. He is no man – he is the Reaper.

Those who may call him friend at any given point don’t understand him. Don’t see the man behind the mask, the killer lurking beneath the surface. John doesn’t mind. Friends, allies, comrades – but not really. No one gets close, because John can not afford them to. That is, until the day he walks past an ad for Starfleet. He can’t quite explain what causes him to walk into the recruiting office and enlist. They’re desperate enough for doctors that the officer on duty can overlook the fact that there is no record on a Leonard H. McCoy ever existing – a name he completely made up spur of the moment and kind of likes, now that he thinks about it.

He boards the shuttle the next day, flask in hand, and promptly heads straight for the bathroom. John Grimm is no wuss, flying doesn’t turn one hair on his head, but it’s an act designed for exactly one purpose. Crazy degenerate drunks tend to drive people away straight from the start, and he doesn’t have to worry about friends.

What he doesn’t count on is James T. Kirk.

People avoid the craizes – something no one has ever apparently told this kid, though to be fair he’s a bit crazy himself. He follows after John, Leonard, after getting off the shuttle, and somehow they end up as roommates even though Leonard is a medical cadet and James is command. John isn’t used to people getting close, but something about the ball of energy that is Kirk gets under his skin. And no one’s gotten under his skin since Sam died about two hundred years ago. He’s not sure he likes it. But at the same time, John can’t help but be drawn by the tentative connections. And Kirk reminds him of his twin in some ways. The same boundless enthusiasm and spirit, but tempered by an extreme focus and drive to excel.

Physicals are hard to fake, but as a certified doctor in his own right he can override the Academy ones and do them himself. And after three years, John thinks he’s getting pretty damn good at it. Combat classes are the worst however. Leonard McCoy is a complete failure at it, and John doesn’t like it one bit. He could have easily taken them all on before the addition of the synthetic chromosome, and even more so now. But he has to hold himself back, get smacked around and pray no one notices how fast the cuts a bruises fade, or notice that he bears no scars. Practice makes perfect however.

Along with dealing with his errant roommate. Kirk doesn’t understand the meaning of the word temperance, and John can’t help but identify with him despite that. Both of them have their own fucked up trauma to deal with (though privately he thinks his own is far worse) and he understands the desire to reach out and connect with another being, be it through fists or sex. He wishes he could release the pent-up fury and violence, but after the last time Security sent out a memo about vandals destroying the punching bags in the cadet gym, he’s run out of options. Short of provoking a Vulcan, he can’t do anything. And the thought has crossed his mind numerous times about doing just that – but he’d never be able to explain and John has no intentions of being a lab rat for some scientists.

It’s been three years with the kid, and John is surprised this is the first time he’s been seriously, really in deep trouble. The Kobayashi Maru is no joke, and Kirk’s cheating is going to result badly for him, he knows it. But when they are interrupted by the distress call from Vulcan, John can’t help but sigh slightly in relief. Kirk’s not allowed to go however, and Leonard can’t sit back and watch. Maybe it’s old Marine training ‘Never leave a man behind’ or maybe it’s just the motto ‘Semper Fi – Always loyal’, but he can’t just leave him standing there. Either way, Kirk (who did in fact looked like someone kicked his puppy, despite what Kirk insists) ended up on the Enterprise, bound for Vulcan. And if he wants to complain about unnecessary force in hyposprays injections one more time, John will fucking show him ‘unnecessary force’. Flying into the rubble of what used to be Starfleet cruisers causes John to shudder, and all he can think of at the moment is the ruins of Olduvai, fighting the monsters in the dark and among the wreckage. He ruthlessly shoves it away. Leonard McCoy has no time to think about history anymore, trying to cope with a hasty promotion to Chief fucking Medical Officer. And when the starship starts to quake and rumble around them, it’s all John can do to stop himself from imagining he’s back on Mars, running after the creatures that killed his teammates.

A beam screams through the air as it falls, crushing a pair of engineers beneath its weight in the smoke. It’s too heavy for a person to lift, and others are forced to leave the pair alone to save others. The younger of them sees Leonard watching them darkly, and she looks pleadingly up into his dark eyes. She doesn’t recoil at the flinty and piercing look, a first. John groans softly. He knows he can’t just leave them there. “Close your eyes.” He murmurs softly, and she complies. While no one is looking John hoists the metal just enough for the two to wiggle out, and moves it to the side when they’re clear. The other takes off instantly, but the woman is staring up at him from the floor with something that looks akin to awe. John just hopes she’ll be too overwhelmed to say anything, or at least that no one will believe her. He can always chalk it up to adrenaline he supposes.

He’s vaguely aware of the little Russian navigator running through the halls screaming, “I can do zat! I can do zat!” as he makes his way back to sickbay to deal with more patients. A doctor’s work is never done, especially when said doctor can function with far less sleep then the rest of his staff, no matter what their protests. The medical crew deals with patients quickly and efficiently, and John finds himself up on the bridge again, more to watch what fool thing Kirk is doing then for any real purpose. He finds Kirk arguing heatedly with Spock on what to do next, and Kirk is getting increasingly upset and even Spock’s twitching slightly. Something seems to snap in the Vulcan, he orders Kirk marooned on a fucking ball of ice for mutiny. Kirk, mutinous of all things? He is many things, but a mutineer is not one of them. And John is forced to watch as the only person he has let close in two hundred years is gone, and the fury burns white hot too close to the surface. He confronts Spock. The Vulcan’s eyebrows twitch, the only sign that he is taken aback at the naked rage on McCoy’s face. “Are you out of your Vulcan mind?” He hisses, and the rage vents its way out. When he cools down, John can only hope that Jim is safe on Delta Vega, and that those who destroyed Vulcan will leave it, and Jim, alone.

He’s in sickbay again when the alert goes out about intruders on the Engineering deck, and John immediately rushes up to the bridge. He knows it’s Jim, the bugger, even if he doesn’t have a fucking clue how he would get back on a ship traveling at warp. But he’s underestimated Kirk before, and John knows that he would somehow find a way. And it is, although he’s dragging a bedraggled looking Scot in sopping wet clothes along for the ride. John can’t stop the brief flash of jealousy that irrationally spurts through him at the sight, though he’s forced to do so as his best friend purposely provokes the acting Vulcan captain. (As John has wanted to do since the beginning goddamnit) and he’s required to stand back and watch. John knows he’s capable of stopping the First Officer, but he can’t, so he instead just prays someone else will save his friend as his control wavers and he’s a hairsbreadth away from intervening. Then Sarek stops his son, and John can breathe again, letting out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

And Kirk is captain now, something that frightens John at the same time as sends a bolt of pride through him for his best friend.

It doesn’t even faze him in the slightest, the face of the crew’s disapproval, including Bones’ (he was ambivalent to the nickname Kirk had bestowed upon him in light of his made up story about an ex-wife and a divorce) halfhearted ‘I hope you know what you’re doing’. Said in a slow southern drawl he’d picked up somewhere in the late twenty-third century. John had to admit the kid was good when the Narada was destroyed, even if they were almost as well. The green-blooded hobgoblin, not so much. He patched Jim up with slightly gentler hands then normal, fixing his trachea and ribs as the kid conversed with the recuperating Pike laying prone in the next bed. And John couldn’t help but smile and cheer as loudly as everyone else when they awarded him the Enterprise.

They all were good at what they did, and it showed in the success rate of their missions, even if the away ones never quite went as planned. John and Jim were under attack by the hostile natives of the planet, separated from the pair of security men who’d beamed down with them. Leonard was unhurt, a fact he was surprised always went uncommented on, but Jim was sporting a broken leg and some serious bruises – ironically both of which were his own fault in tripping over a root. “Dammit.” John swore lightly under his breath. “’is okay Bones! We’ll get back, you’ll see! Scotty’ll get transporter lock, and Spock will come with help!” Putting aside his jealousy over the amount of trust Jim placed in Spock, John didn’t buy it for a second. He knew he had to do something, and that something would have to involve talents that had long lain dormant and unused, forced out of the mind of a doctor with no use for them. Glancing suspiciously at Jim, he pulled a hypospray from his medbag and jammed the sedative into his neck. “Wha was that?” Leonard faked pulling something from Jim’s neck and rolling it around in his fingers. “Looks like some kind of tranquilizer dart.” He murmured, turning around just in time to catch the captain as he fell. “I had no choice Jim.” He whispered softly, divesting himself of his gear and blue Starfleet medical over shirt. He left the phasers lying on the ground beside the captain.

When Spock finally did arrive several hours later to find them holed up in a tree, he accepted Leonard’s explanation of a rival band of natives attacking. He didn’t mention it again, only proceeded to inform the captain that the pair of security officers had been rescued from a cave nearby. And if anyone notices that the good doctor seemed a great deal more relaxed after that away mission, no one comments on it.

He is John Grimm, the Reaper. But he is also Leonard McCoy, Starfleet officer; John reflects, staring down at Jim stretched out on the biobed. A tiny smile crosses his face as he tugs the covers up to Jim’s chest, then moves towards the door. He takes one last look at the sleeping form, and then turns out the light. John doesn’t look back as he heads out the door and down the hall.

Maybe he’ll tell Jim the truth someday.


	2. Sentinal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets aren't meant to remain secrets - at least not to those you care about.

John is never sure if Jim is quite as oblivious as he seems. He’s never spent this much time in one place before, never stuck around with the same group of people for more then a year or two. But it’s going on four years now sticking with Jim Kirk, and John knows that he’s had to have picked up on a couple of things that the older man can’t always hide. His body for one. His staff is always commenting on how their boss works himself to death, and seems to barely get more then a few hours of sleep each night, half the time caught on the cot in his office. But then there’s the fact that John has no time at all to work out, yet maintains a fantastic ‘structural base’ as Spock might say. So far no one’s commented on it, but John’s still waiting for the day.

And then there’s the occasional away mission where he’s forced to take action. So far John is almost positive that each time it’s only been a last resort, that he only uses his secret skills when there’s no other option. But he forced himself to admit that it’s not totally true. John can’t quite say that every single one of them had been as a last resort, but dammit, he needs some sort of recreation because that much pent up fury and frustration isn’t healthy. He would know – he’s a doctor. John’s almost to the point where he’s really tempted to ask Spock for help, despite his dislike of the hobgoblin. He discards the idea almost as soon as it emerges half formed from his mind every time; because he figures Spock will just suggest meditation or some other shit like that. John scoffs. Meditation. Right.

But John’s afraid to find his way into the gym, not wanting repeats of the incidents during his time at the Academy with utterly destroyed punching bags and equipment. But he can stretch and practice his boxing, can’t he? So occasionally John finds himself in one of the smaller crew gyms in the depths of Gamma shift, when most of the crew is sleeping and the skeleton personnel awake are all at their stations. He’s in the middle of working up a real sweat for the first time in far too long when he realizes someone is in the room with him. John spins around, fists at the ready with instincts born of years of conditioning for an attack, when he realizes it’s only Spock. The Vulcan is eyeing him with something that looks a little like respect, and a little like wariness. John sighs.

“Doctor?” The other man says after a moment.

“Yeah, Spock?” Leonard answers tiredly, really hoping Spock’s not going to push, because he is just not in the fucking mood right now.

He doesn’t, just continues to watch him as one watches a cornered animal, expecting him to lash out at any instant. “Never mind, I will continue on my way and leave you to whatever it is you were accomplishing.” Then he turned on his heel and left, leaving a thoroughly confused John behind him, gaping slightly at his retreating back. What the hell?

John does his best to put the incident out of his mind the next day, and Spock gives no indication that it ever happened. At least, until he shows up again a few days later. “Doctor.” He inclines his head slightly, serenely watching as John swipes a hand across his forehead and does his best to figure out what the hell the Vulcan wants. “It has come to my attention as per my last visit that you lack a sparring partner. I volunteer my assistance.” Surprise, hesitation, and uncertainty flash across the older man’s face before he schools it into an emotionless state.

“You’ll rip me limb from limb Spock.” Leonard says after a moment. He arches an eyebrow gracefully.

“Somehow, I doubt that Doctor.” John stifles a laugh.

He’s glad for the company, glad for the respite from the aching emotions that follow him no matter what. It’s an insight into the mind of Jim, John realizes suddenly later, once again patching the captain up after an away mission when he got into a situation involving the business end of spear. It’s like nothing else exists for those stolen moments, that whatever pain and drama might drown him outside of this; it no longer exists in that small set time. Maybe that’s why Jim gets into so many bar fights, because Leonard is aware of the sort of trauma that his best friend carries with him. The whiskey burns a little going down, but the taste is familiar and comforting.

John tenses a little bit when a long shadow falls across the room as the door whooshes open. He inhales, and the unique scent of vanilla and some other scent he can’t quite identify reach his nose, the pure smell that is just Jim. “Jim.” The other one swore. “How the hell do you do that? You’re not even looking this way, and I didn’t say anything at all! I could have been Chapel or anyone else!” Leonard hides a smile, spinning in his chair to face the captain. “What is it now Jim? Bajoran Herpes? Andorian Shingles?” A soft laugh escaped his friend. “Nothing Bones! How often do I have to tell you I’m clean?” Bones just rolls his eyes. “What is it then?” Jim grins. “I’m busting you out of here. You work too hard. Bring your alcohol, we’re going back to my quarters and getting good and drunk.” Panic temporarily flashes through him at that. It takes a hell of lot more alcohol for John to get drunk then Jim’s going to realize.

Luckily, the kid’s a bit too self-absorbed to notice otherwise. He’s never noticed that Leonard is never more then a little bit tipsy at best, despite the fact that he can drink Jim under the table before even hitting that point. And when Jim gets drunk, he gets talkative. Well, John amends himself, more talkative. He likes to push Leonard about his past, which had led to a long and detailed history about Georgia and horses and an old country doctor practice that’s so convincing, John himself half beliefs that it really did happen. He’s even got a stock of ‘stories’ of his college days at Ole Miss and medical school. But nonetheless he finds himself being dragged out of the sickbay not entirely under his own power. (or so he lets Jim think) His shift did end two hours ago, so he’s not doing anything wrong in abandoning his post. M’Benga can handle anything, and it’s easy enough to locate him if something should go wrong.

Jim drops haphazardly into a chair once in his quarters, and John slides less wildly into one across from him, plunking two bottles of whiskey on the table with an expression that looks like a cross between a smirk and a scowl.

Two hours later, Jim is completely smashed, and John is about a quarter of the way there, despite having consumed more alcohol then the captain. It’s enough that when Jim starts asking him questions about his family, he’s spacey enough to mention Sam. “Didn’t… know y’had a sister Bones.” He asks shakily, struggling to stay upright.

“Sam’s dead. Died two ‘undred years ago, or close t’it.” John slurs slightly. It’s then that Jim’s stomach has decided it’s had enough, and John is forced to help the man out and get him into bed.

In the morning, John is horrified to remember what had occurred. Jim is the first person in a very, very long time that he can let his guard down around, and he’s coming dangerously close to revealing things no one ever needs to know, not if he wants to stay a free man and not a lab rat – or be looked at with respect instead of revulsion. Aside from the occasional curious glance the incident isn’t mentioned again, but John’s taken to avoiding Jim whenever possible, much as it hurts to separate himself the one person he genuinely cares about – a first since Sam died. He doesn’t go up the bridge like he’s prone to doing, standing just off to Jim’s side and watching with a calm eye the goings on. He doesn’t take his meals with captain anymore, doesn’t spend his off-duty time with him. But John can’t afford to slip up. He can see confusion in the other man’s face when he delivers his reports, or when he’s injured as normal on a mission.

Bones just patches him up gruffly and sends him back on his way with a half-hearted ‘be more careful next time kid’ and leaves it at that. During what has become a weekly ritual of sparring seasons, Spock doesn’t mention Jim or Leonard’s avoidance of him, for which John is infinitely graceful. But of course, fate had a way of intervening.

It was supposed to be simply a diplomatic mission, helping to negotiate a treaty between two warring factions on the planet’s surface, but it’s the Enterprise. Nothing is ever that simple. The planet is important strategically, and it really shouldn’t surprise anyone that the Klingons show up. They’re bent on wrecking the peace that would lead to the planet joining the Federation, and the landing party is caught in the middle of it. They’re split up almost instantly, Jim and Leonard taking cover in an alcove off to the side, and Spock and Uhura trapped in a secondary room off the main section. The feral aliens have apparently had enough of killing each other, and turn to the Enterprise crew. Their phasers are burning in their hands, and Kirk makes a comment that he didn’t know Bones was so good with a gun, picking on his deadly accuracy.

Leonard’s suddenly stops firing. “We can’t get out of this like this Jim.” He whispers softly.

“What?” Jim looks panicked for a second. “Don’t give up on me Bones, we can survive this, and we will!”

John shook his head. “Do you trust me?”

Jim blinks in surprise, but nods. “With my life Bones.” A smile quirks at the corner of his mouth. “Then I hope you don’t hate me when this is over.” And with that, he attaches the phaser back on his belt and walks into the fray taking place, with Jim watching horrified behind him.

Several of the big aliens rush him immediately, and John hears a sound of surprise from behind him as he spins and tosses him over one shoulder, following with his own body and pressing a knee into the small of his back. A quick twist, and he breaks the alien’s neck, spinning out of the way quickly as a bat’leth whistles through the air to where he’d been a millisecond before – faster then any human could manage. Jim can only watch in shock as Bones – his Bones, the one that barely passed the self-defense course at the Academy – proceeds to decimate all of the Klingons still in the room. Even swipes that would seriously wound another man didn’t phase him, although when one manages to plunge a blade through his shoulder, it only takes the man a few minutes before he’s back to using both his arms. Jim can’t believe his eyes.

By the time Bones is done, what used to be a room filled with Klingon warriors is filled only with blood and bodies. One of them groans slightly and twitches, and without a moment’s hesitation, Bones stalks over to him and shoots him once in the heart and once between the eyes. When he looks up, Jim is startled at the utter lack of emotion in his eyes, and the coldness that sends a chill down his spine.

“Bones.” Jim says after a moment, looking at his bloody chief medical officer. “I think it’s time we had a serious talk.”


	3. Protector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is never really that simple.

John swallows hard as he faces Jim, spine straightening with ramrod postrue. The look on Jim's face is unreadable, and frankly, John's a bit afraid of the reaction. He can't lose Jim, a thought that completely startles him. In the span of time he's known the blond, Jim's become the most important person in his life, and losing him would be like cutting a part of himself out. He's not at all pleased to realize this fact. John's not sure how he's going to explain this, but he had to protect Jim. When the Klingons had entered the room and he saw Jim go down, he'd been unable to contain his rage. Luckily, Jim hadn't been hit, just avoiding a shot, but nonetheless Reaper had emerged and the fury that went with it. He protected what was hi. John had long ago appointed himself Jim's de facto guardian, whether the kid knew it or not, and he was alway going to be there to keep him safe. Lord knew the kid couldn't do it himself.

John strips his Starfleet issue medical shirt over his head, balling it up as he tosses it to his feet. His black undershirt is mostly bloodless, and he can always just say the over shirt was too badly damaged. It works for Jim. He can’t believe they’re going to have this conversation in a room full of dead Klingons, but it’s ironically perfect. Of course, Spock and Uhura choose that moment to peer around the corner, phasers held in front of them. They blink in surprise at the carnage, and Spock focuses in on John, a slightly knowing look on his face. Uhura just looks completely bewildered, but wisely keeps her mouth shut. “What happened Spock?” Jim snaps after a moment, in an attempt to break the quickly becoming awkward silence. “They came through the main doors, presumably beaming down directly into the complex. Lieutenant Uhura and myself were forced back towards the wall, and we ducked into a smaller annex room for protection. I saw you and Doctor McCoy firing from the alcove before we were overrun trying to keep them from coming in the door. We cleared them out eventually as they bottlenecked themselves, and then we came back to help you. Only it appears you do not need our assistance.” There’s something that John can’t quite identify in Spock’s eyes, but if he had to classify it, he’d say it was admiration.

Jim sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He pulls his communicator from his belt, and they move to stand beside the other pair. “Scotty?” After a moment, the thick Scottish brogue they know so well filters through. “Four to beam up.” John sighs as the now familiar feeling surrounds him, not protesting as he normally does because it’s useless at this point. Transporters don’t frighten him – they’ve got nothing on the Ark. The Chief Engineer gives them a broad grin when they appear on the pad, but it dims when he takes in the grim looks on the officers’ faces. “Wha ‘appened?” He asks, curiosity getting the better of him. “We picked up ‘nother ship in teh system. Trouble?” Jim nodded briefly. “Klingons.” He says, and leaves it at that. They exit the transporter room, with no words being said. Uhura looks like she has something to say, and even opens her mouth to do so, but Spock places a hand on her shoulder, and she closes it with a snap, settling instead for a curious look as Jim and Leonard walk away.

John walks into the turbolift, hoping Jim won’t follow, but he knows the kid better then that. And sure enough, he follows him inside without saying a word. Joh just looked at his friend. “We’re going to need alcohol for this conversation.” He said simply.

It only takes the pair a few minutes before they’re in McCoy’s quarters, and he’s dragging out the good stuff. Properly aged bourbon, as well as his carefully hidden bottle of Romulan Ale. “Bones! You know that shit’s illegal.” Jim teases, and John relaxes slightly. If Jim’s teasing him, he’s not completely overwhelmed or pissed at him. Or worse yet, scared. He shrugs. “It’s only illegal if you get caught.” Jim snickers. “You sound like me, I must be a good influence!” John laughs at that. “Of course.” He replies dryly. Kirk smiles.

Then his gaze turns serious. “Bones. I trust you with my life no matter what, and you need to know that. But what the hell was that down there? Last time I checked, you couldn’t fight your way out of a paper bag, let alone take on a shitload of Klingons with your fucking bare hands.” There’s a note in his voice that worries John, but he puts it aside for now. “I… it’s a really long story Jim.” He says, desperately hoping they’re not going to have to do this. It’s hope against hope, because if he’s ever met a man as stubborn as he is, it’s James Kirk. Jim just stares at him. John lets his breath out in one slow exhale. “I’d better start at the beginning then.” He says softly.

“My name’s not actually Leonard McCoy. It’s John Grimm. My twin Samantha and I were born in the year 2021, and our parents were forensic archeologists working on the Olduvai instillation on Mars. There was an accident on the dig site they were working, and they died when I was really young. For a long time it was just Sam and me. She ended up following in our parents’ footsteps and becoming an archeologist as well, and I went my own way. We drifted apart, and I enlisted in the military as a Marine. For a really long time we didn’t talk, and I worked my way up through the ranks until I earned my place on the special ops Rapid Response Tactical Squad. We were just about to go on leave when a distress call from Olduvai came in, and despite my CO’s insistence that I stay behind, we made our way up to the station.” He took a deep breath, and then poured himself a small amount of the Romulan Ale. Jim watched, fascinated. “Then what?” He was like a little kid with a Christmas present just out of reach.

He shot the kid a glare, and he quieted, clear blue eyes focused intently on Bones. “We found it in a panic, and I ran into my twin for the first time in years.” His face was grim. “Long story short, the station was overrun with demonic monsters of a genetic experiment gone wrong. The scientists had found evidence that the original residents of the station had created a synthetic twenty-fourth chromosome, and it gave some of the population superhuman, invulnerable to disease, and able to heal incredibly fast.” Jim looks contemplative. “Like you.” He whispers, light going off in his head. “Not now. Let me finish my story.” John knocks back another shot. “It turned others into the mutant hellspawn we found. The scientists duplicated it. They tested it on a prisoner, only it turned him into one of them, and they were forced to flee.” A faraway look passed over his face, and it took prompting from Jim for him to continue. “Sorry. It started after the others, turning them into things like themselves, which is when they contacted my team. When we showed up, only two of the original eight were still alive, but both were infected and we didn’t know it. In the end, they got four of my team before the original escaped back to Earth via the Ark.”

He swallowed. “We followed, to find it had infected most of the base. One of the Marines, Kid, found a storeroom filled with uninfected people. He reported back to our CO, Sarge, who ordered that if it breathes, kill it. Kid argued.” John sighed. Jesus, he was just a kid. “Kid argued. Sarge… Sarge shot him in the throat for insubordination.” Jim’s softly indrawn breath matches John’s own feelings at the time. “We lost one of the others not long after that. Sam and I were running with Sarge to safety, into the medbay with a nanowall that they couldn’t get through, but the nanowall wouldn’t close.” His face was grim with the memory. “They got Sarge, pulled him right through. I was shooting at the bastards pulling Sarge when the wall finally decided to close, and my last bullet ricocheted, right into me. Sam and I fled, but the bullet got me at a bad place, and I was bleeding to death, and she knew it.” Jim made a soft sound of distress, and John sighed. He picked up his glass and knocked another one back, trying hard not to let the emotions of that day flood back again. He wouldn’t be able to finish the story if he did.

“Sam knew it too. She pulled out a vial of the 24th chromosome she’d taken from the lab, and started to inject me with it. I stopped her. She insisted, saying that she knew me, and knew I wouldn’t turn into a monster. I gave her my gun and told her to shot me, once through the heart, and once through the head if I started to turn. She told me she wouldn’t need it. When I woke up, she was gone, but so was the pain, and all of the minor wounds I’d gathered along the way. I didn’t take the time to really think about it, because I had to find Sam.” John pauses for a moment, remembering the day. The fear about losing Sam, but the exhilaration of mowing down the creatures without hesitation, without having to worry that he’s going to get hurt, the realization that he can take care of those he cares about better then ever. “Bones?” Jim says softly, jerking him back to the present.

“Anyway, I found Sam, but Sarge showed up soon after. And he’d become infected.” His voice was grim. “I sent Sam away, and dealt with Sarge myself.” He doesn’t tell Jim about the fight, about how he and Sarge battled it out for dominance and victory, until John finally shoved him through the Ark with an ST grenade. How he regretted what all of it had come to, that nothing would ever be the same again and that life was going to become one hell of a complication. He sighed. “Sam and I made it back to the surface, and I vanished into the wind. Sam went back to her job, though and I visited her whenever I could. Made up new names, new jobs, moved around. Went to medical school actually, only because I needed a way around having to be given physicals and such so I didn’t show up funny.” He sighed. “The worst was trying to avoid the Eugenics Wars. They happened before my time, but I did everything I could to avoid any and all association with them. Sam died along the line, and I’ve spent too long blending into the shadows and avoiding notice.”

He sighed. “I don’t know what convinced me to join Starfleet, but I’ve never spent this long with the same group of people before. Ya’ll are going to get old. I’m not. I’ll look exactly as I do right now for the rest of my life, however long that may be.” John stopped talking, and fixed his gaze on the bottle of Romulan Ale at the table.

“Bones.” John doesn’t move his gaze from the bottle. “John, look at me.” He says softly, and reluctantly dark eyes meet blue ones. “I don’t care if your name is Leonard McCoy or john Grimm or the fucking Easter Bunny. You’re Bones, and more to the point, you’re my Bones.” He looked at Jim, eyes flat and emotionless, and Jim swallows. “And I know you. You’re not a bad person, and I don’t give a flying fuck about your past. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. I need you Bones – I don’t think I could captain this ship if I didn’t have you have to confide in at the end of the day, to laugh or cry with, to share the horror that is my birthday with. Or without you to give me a good swift kick to the pants and tell me I’m being an asshole.” The look on John’s face is still unreadable, but then he’s moving so fast Jim’s brain can’t comprehend it. And suddenly Jim is pressed up against the wall, and Bones’ mouth is on his. “And… if this means I don’t have… to worry about you… defending yourself… all the better.” Jim pants. “I’ll… know you’re safe.” He adds. “But I do have to worry. I don’t know if you’ll come back in one piece, if you’ll be on my exam table and I can’t put you back together, or if I’m going to have to face losing the only person I have cared about since Sam died.” John growls. “I know I’ll have to face losing you at some point in the future, but that’s some indefinable point away from now.” He rests his forehead on Jim’. “Don’t make me lose you kid. Don’t make me go back to being alone.”

The tension in the room is palpable. Jim leans forward to capture Bones’ lips in a scorching kiss in response. “I won’t.” He says softly. “I’ll never leave you.” Naked fear ghosted across his face, and he clutched John tightly. “Don’t ever leave me. You can have anything or anyone you ever wanted, and you picked me. Don’t ever leave.” John picks Jim up and carries him before depositing him on the bed. “I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to.” He waits a beat. “Who’d patch your sorry ass up then?” Neither of them is good at this touchy-feely stuff, and John’s just about reached his limit for the next month. He shucks the black undershirt, and watches as Jim pulls the gold command shirt over his head. “I love you kid.” John says gruffly after he’s done squirming into place. One arm reaches out to pull Jim flush up to John’s chest. “Computer, lights off.” The room is plunged into darkness, and a warm, comfortable silence pervades the room.

“Does this mean you could bench press me?”

“Go to sleep kid.”


	4. Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loss is something Reaper is intimately familiar with.

That night isn't mentioned again, but there's a new dimension added to their relationship. John trusts Jim implicitly, and in turn Jim knows that no matter what happens, Bones will be there to pull him out of whatever shit he gets himself into. As well probably rip the arms off whoever hurts him and beat them with them. The senior command staff doesn't comment on the increased casual contact between the pair, but John doesn't miss the knowing smirk Uhura occasionally sends in their direction. They don't care, though Bones supposes they should. No matter what he is or what they are, Jim is still Captain of a starship, and Leonard is his CMO. Regulations are there for a reason. But the thoughts slip from his mind when the door to the little gym whooshes open, and Spock strides in as he always does.

Without a word, both divest themselves of the Starfleet blue shirts, and Spock folds his neatly to the side while John throws his somewhere in the vicinity of the wall. Then just as suddenly a body slams into him, and John himself is hurtling towards the same wall. He doesn’t speak, just bounces to his feet and parries another attack by the Vulcan. He ducks the other man’s foot, spinning too quickly for a human possibly could, and is turned around in time to grab Spock’s ankle. With a twist he sends Spock flying to the floor, and grabs his arm and twists it behind him, pressing his face into the floor. “Say uncle Spock.” John growls. “Very good Doctor. You have managed to defeat me once more. I express surprise at this, as I logically assumed your human talents would not be enough to combat my own.” John chuckles softly, getting off of the First Officer and extending a hand. Spock takes it, and he hauls the other man to his feet. “Wanna rematch?”

Spock thinks for a moment. “Illogically, it seems as if I possess the desire to defeat you Doctor, and thus I will take you up on this rematch. I am surprised at your prowess.” A laugh escapes John, and he can’t breathe. “Oh Spock. It’s called ‘competitiveness’. You don’t like being beaten.” Spock looks surprised. It’s a priceless look, and John arches one eyebrow. “C'mon Spock, put ‘em up.” He lunges for the Vulcan, colliding with his abdomen and carrying both to the floor with a crash. Spock surprises John by flipping their positions, and he holds him as John struggles like a wildcat beneath him to get free. He scratches Spock’s face accidentally, leaving a cut across the Vulcan’s right eye, but Spock doesn’t bat an eyelash as the blood flows freely.

Shoving with all his strength, John moves him enough that he’s able to get out from underneath, and he pushes himself backward, rolling to his feet. Spock is watching him serenely, which is kind of spooky considering the fact that he’s bleeding all over the place. Then the Vulcan lunges for John, and his knee catches him in the groin. Wheezing, John falls to his knees. “Uncle, uncle.” He pants. After a moment he can stand again, wincing the tiniest bit. “Didn’t know you had it in you Spock.” He looks unruffled. “It is logical to use any means necessary to win Doctor. I would think you would know this.” John blinks, and then eyes Spock suspiciously. “What do you mean by that you green-blooded bastard?”

“I meant that only as you wish to interpret it.” John sighs, sensing he’s not getting any more out of the closemouthed man. “C'mon, I’ve got a medkit in my quarters, lemme fix that cut up so you don’t go scarin’ the crew.” _You pointy-eared Satanic looking bastard._ He adds under his breath, and Spock doesn’t give any indication if he hears this or not.

Spock doesn’t say anything when they enter his quarters and Jim’s sleeping peacefully in McCoy’s bed. John just fixes him up with a small smile, running the dermal regenerator quietly over the Vulcan’s face. With a murmured thank you, the First Officer leaves quietly and John turns to look at the lithe body sprawled in his bed. His eyes soften. Jim is clutching John’s pillow tightly to his chest, and he’s muttering nonsense things in his sleep. Suddenly he twitches violently, and John can hear him whimpering slightly. The nightmares again. Jim would never admit it when he was awake, but occasionally nightmares of the day of his birth plagued him, or nightmares about losing his crew to various violent demises. Silent as the darkness around them, John slips into bed beside Jim, taking his head into his lap. “Shh…” He strokes Jim’s hair lightly, because usually his presence is enough to calm the other man down. It takes a few minutes, but the captain settles, and John smiles.

The next day John doesn’t mention the nightmares, and neither does Jim, but he can tell Jim appreciates it when he wakes up and breakfast is already replicated and on the table. Jim’s nowhere to be found of course, but John fights back a smile. A few hours later he’s in Sickbay, leaning back in his chair as he idly reads some of the backlog of medical journals during the slow time, when the comm buzzes and he can hear Chapel answer it. Her voice cracks suddenly, and John’s out of his chair and out of his office in a heartbeat. “Yes sir.”

“The away team’s beaming directly up to Sickbay. They have one dead and three injured, two of which are critical.” John sighed, glancing to the heavens. Please, if there is a God, not Jim. Please not Jim. It’s not, but he’s the one stretched out on the biobed with his insides spilling out his stomach, and John can’t stand hearing the gasping, wheezing attempts at breathing coming from his friend. He’s the more seriously injured of the three, and Bones goes to work without a word. Sometime during the period of where he’s placing Jim’s insides back where they belong, on the inside, and when he’s autosuturing the wound closed, M’Benga appears and begins working on the other patient, who Bones realizes for the first time is Sulu. Chekov watches anxiously from another bed, where a nurse is just finishing patching up his minor wounds.

It takes a long time, but John is finally finished repairing Jim, and the only thing left to do is wait. His own natural body regenerative functions have to do the rest, because there’s nothing more he can do. Jim’s filled to the gills with sedatives and painkillers, and John can only hope it’s enough. A nurse strips him of the protective outer layers, bloody enough to look as if he just walked out of an abattoir and not surgery. John sighs, running on hand through his short-cropped hair. He sits down on the chair next to the bed where Chekov is still sitting. “What happened?” He asks softly. “Ve vere taking ze samples Mizter Spock asked us to vhen ve were attacked by two wery large creatures. Zhey looked like ze jaguars of Earth, wery large cats. Hikaru pushed me out of ze vay when ze cat got him first. Ze Keptin, he pulled Hikaru out of ze vay and threw us both in ze bushes, yelling for us to climb a tree. He shot ze cat seweral times but missed hitting anyt’ing wital. Ze cat clawed him across ze stomach before I managed to shot it betveen the eyes.” Big, innocent eyes stared at the doctor.

“You did good kid, you probably saved Jim’s life.” John says gruffly, not sure how to console the teenager who has the look of one who thinks it’s all his fault. “It’s not your fault Pavel.” John adds gruffly. Leonard McCoy may be an expert in psychology and have a very good idea of the human mind, but he doesn’t know how to handle guilt. It’s been a long time since he’s felt any guilt for his actions, not since he watched his commanding officer shoot an innocent kid in the throat. Chekov makes a small sound of distress, and John is forcibly dragged back to the present. He looks up into those wide eyes, which now have a modicum of fear in them. John groans softly. The last thing he needs is the crew being frightened of him. “Bad memories.” He grunts in response, and the fear dims slightly in the teen’s eyes. “The Keptin, he vill be all right, yes?” John smiles. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.” John lies. In truth, he places Jim’s condition at extremely guarded. If he makes it through the night, he’ll have a better shot, but John’s worried about infection setting in. Chekov sighs in relief, and goes back to staring at a sleeping Sulu.

John doesn’t leave the Sickbay that night, choosing instead to catch his normal two or three hours of sleep on the cot in his office, with the door propped open so he can hear any change in the Captain’s state. He sleeps fitfully, more so then usual, plagued by nightmares of Olduvai, something he thought he was past. When he wakes up in a cold sweat for the third time, John calls it quits and gets up to work on some of the paperwork that has piled up. A soft groan from the main Sickbay causes him to head there, immediately to Jim’s bed. “Dammit Jim. The sedative wasn’t supposed to wear off for three more hours. You and your stupid body chemistry.” Bones rolls his eyes as he checks the life sign readings. “How do you feel?” He says softly. “Like shit.” Jim says bluntly. “Take a deep breath.” Jim complies, and John watches his chest rise and fall, for the most part as normal. His pulse is normal, he seems to be breathing fine, and there aren’t any problems with his heart, though he’s far paler then he should be. John sighs gently in relief. “We almost lost you. If you weren’t in such good shape, we might have.”

Jim grins weakly. “Is that your way of saying you like m’body Bones?” John chuckles. “You need to rest more. You’re not out of danger yet.” Jim’s eyes widen slightly. “No more hyposprays!” It’s too late of course; only Bones is a little more gentle about it, choosing to inject him with the sedative in the upper arm instead of his neck. Jim’s eyes roll up in his head, and John lowers him gently back to the bed. “Get well kid.” He says gruffly, before going back into his office to work on the paperwork. Jim doesn’t wake up again, and when Sulu wakes up the next morning, John is glad to see he’s going to make it. “I’m going to release you later today, provided bed rest for at least three days Mr. Sulu. Can you handle that?” The helmsman nods empathically. “Yes Doctor McCoy.” He says feverishly. John’s not quite sure where his reputation as a tyrant came from, but he’s pretty sure it’s Jim fault. Most things are.

Chekov has appeared again, and John can’t help but shake his head as he watches the pair go, the smaller man supporting his hobbling best friend. Jim’s waking up again, this time only about half an hour before he’s supposed to, and Bones heads over to check on him. He’s more stable then he was when he woke up last night, and his color isn’t quite as pale as it was. He doesn’t speak for a moment. “Don’t yell at me Bones. I was only protecting my crew.” The blond says, meeting the taller man’s eyes defiantly. “I had to keep them safe.” He dares John to make a comment. “I wasn’t goin’ to. I was only thinkin’ how sorry I am Chekov killed the damn thing.” Confusion dances across Jim’s face. “I wanted to go down and rip the thing limb from limb myself.” John growls. Jim looks delighted. “Is it wrong of me to say this dominant and kind of bloodthirsty thing turns me on?” John looks startled for a moment. “It is when you can’t even sit up by yourself. And when you’re not allowed to have solid food for at least another day.” The younger man’s face falls, and he pouts. “Aww… Bones!”


	5. Adversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introspection might be good or the soul, but now when you've got two hundred years worth of history to think of.

John stares morosely at the ensign lying sedated on the bed. “Jim.” He says while the doors are in the middle of whooshing open, but for the first time Jim doesn’t comment. “How’s he doing?” The captain says softly, and Bones sighs as he looks away from the still form. “Physically, he’s fine. It’s the mental part that has me worried. If he wakes up, I couldn’t tell you if he’d walk straight out of here and try to kill himself again. We’ll find out more tomorrow when he wakes up.” Jim looks at John quizzically. “What’s wrong Bones? And don’t give me that shit about bad memories. We’ve been over this – you’re a good person, contrary to what you might believe.” John didn’t move his gaze from the science ensign. “I tried once – a few times actually.”

John hears Jim's hiss of indrawn breath from behind him, but doesn't stop. Because, hell, it's just been such a sharing couple of days, why stop the trend? "It was about a hundred years or so ago. I'd lost everything at that point - everyone I'd known and cared about was dead and gone, and the newness and fire that I had when I was first changed was gone too. I just wanted it to end, I felt like I didn't have any reason to be here. I tried overdosing on some of the high-grade barbiturates the first time, but all it did was make me puke my guts out for two days straight. Slitting my wrists didn't work either, because the cuts healed too fast for any amount of blood to escape. I gave up after hanging myself didn't work." He didn't risk a look at his captain, because John knew he wouldn't be able to handle the look in Jim's eyes that was sure to be there.

“So yeah, that’s what’s wrong. You wanted the truth, you got it.” The only thing Bones heard was the sound of the door as it closed. He sank into the chair beside the ensign’s bed, and scrubbed his face in his hands. “It’s just you and me, eh kid?” The redhead on the bed twitched slightly in his drugged sleep, and his head turned the tiniest fraction away from John. Reaper pretended that didn’t wedge the hypothetical knife in, just a little bit farther.

~*~

“Captain?” Jim glances up as Spock approaches him in the corridor. “May I inquire as to whether you know the whereabouts of Doctor McCoy? I became curious when he did not appear for our nightly meeting in the gym.” Jim blinked. “What’re you two doing in the gym of all places? In the middle of the hypothetical space night?” Spock blinks. “Sparring of course. It is exercise for both of us, since neither can train with anyone else because of our greater strength and reflexes.” It’s Jim’s turn to blink. “You… and Bones? Sparring?” He should have made the connection sooner, but Jim didn’t know that Spock knew about Bones/John/Leonard/whatever the hell he wanted to call himself.

He shakes his head. It’s not important at the moment. “Captain, are you feeling yourself? You look rather pale.” Spock asks, a look of concern briefly flitting over his features before it’s gone. It strikes Jim then. Here’s another person that knows about Bones… Reaper… and won’t look at him as if he’s crazy. But he’s not sure how to deal with bringing it up. “Permission to speak freely Captain?” Spock surprises him by speaking up. Jim sighs. “For about the one hundredth time Spock, when we’re not on duty it’s Jim, and you don’t have to ask permission to speak.” Spock doesn’t say anything, just looks very intently at the younger man.

“It appears to me, Captain,” And if Spock isn’t placing emphasis on that word Jim doesn’t know what’s up, “That you have not fully dealt with the implications or brought yourself to reason with the fact that Doctor McCoy is actually over two hundred years old and possessing talents no human could logically possess.” Jim blinks. Damn the Vulcan. Jim hadn’t even really admitted it to himself yet, and there he went being all physiological on him. That’s usually Bones’ job, calling him on his bullshit. “I…” He’s at a loss for words. “It appears to me as if you and Doctor McCoy should converse on this matter, because logically it will only drive a further wedge between you.” Spock replies, unruffled. Jim sighs again. “When’d you get so damn smart Spock?

“I do not understand the query Captain. I have always been intellectually gifted.” The Vulcan looks confused. Jim stifles a smile. “Never mind.” 

 

~*~

 

It’s the next morning after Alpha shift before Jim is able to find Bones again, and he’s not sure exactly how this conversation is going to go down. They’ve been sharing so much more with each other lately – or at least Bones has. He’s learned more about his best friend in the past few days then he ever did in the three years at the Academy. He finally manages to corner the good doctor in his office. Jim attempts to nonchalantly lean against the doorframe, but as per usual, John already knows he’s there. “Sit down kid.”

A flash of pain darts across his face at the words, and Jim can’t place why. He’s a little afraid to ask however, after the last bit of information Bones shared when he pushed. But he does anyway. “What’s wrong?” John sighs, thinking of nightmares of the previous night. “Just… memories of one of my fellow Marines. His handle was The Kid.” John thinks of the spurts of bright red blood emanating from his throat, and the utter terror in the kid’s eyes. “Ever since I let go that first time, it’s all coming back.” John says quietly after a moment. “As clearly and as vividly as the day it happened.” Jim doesn’t know what the hell to say to that. He just reaches a hand across the desk, laying it on top of Bones’, sensing that a physical touch wouldn’t be remiss at the moment.

After a moment, Jim clears his throat. “I actually came in here for a reason this time.” He says softly. “I ran into Spock, and to sum the whole conversation up, he thinks we should clear the air. Hypothetically speaking.” John rolls his eyes. “But he’s right, I think. I do have some unresolved issues that I haven’t dealt with in regards to you, and I think they need to be said, or there’s always going to be that little part of me wondering if it’s really all right.

“You wanted honesty Bones, so fine. It scares me, the things you’re capable of. It fucking terrifies me, and I’m not always sure how to react around you anymore. I’ve seen the raw destructive power you’re capable of John.” It’s the first time Jim’s ever called him by his real name, and John’s finding it just a little bit harder to breathe at the intensity in those startling blue eyes. “But.” John looks at him. “You’re still Bones. Even if you probably can take over the entire ship and incapacitate the entire crew unscathed, you never will.” Jim explains. “You’re a good person at heart, and I would have known that from the start, I did, and would believe it even if the chromosome proved it by not turning you into a monster. You might be stronger then Spock, able to heal instantly, and hiding most of a genius that surpasses even the whiz kid, but that doesn’t change the core of who you are. Even if you are a little bit different then everyone else, you’re still Bones – my Bones, my very best friend in the world.”

John looked pained. “But the fact that you don’t think I would do anything, it still means you’ve thought about it.” He says quietly. “The fact that that scenario came up in your mind at all means you’ve at least given it some thought.” He adds, trying to make more sense to Jim of the thoughts tumbling chaotically through his head. He doesn’t know how to put it fully into words. Jim moves around the desk towards Bones, and then he’s sitting firmly in John’s lap, and all he can do is stare at him. “Dammit Jim, Someone might walk in!” He says, scowling. “Don’t care.” The Captain murmurs, leaning forward to rest his forehead on John’s. “You’re upset, and I need to kiss it and make it better.” Bones stifled a laugh. “Get the hell off my lap kid.” He lightly pushes the blond backwards, only it was stronger then he’d realized, and Jim tumbles to the floor with a crash. He’s on his feet in an instant, but Jim’s standing up and dusting himself off.

“I’m fine Bones!” John doesn’t believe him for one instant, and picks up a tricorder from his desk, moving towards Jim. But he stops dead in his tracks at the look of fear that flashes through the younger man’s eyes. Pain lances through him, and John sees Jim’s face. He moves towards him again, but the fear is there again, and John’s unable to stop the grim realization that he was right. He’s too frightening, too odd, too different, and they’re not going to last this.

He doesn’t care that it’s his office that he’s suddenly fleeing, headed for the relative safety of his quarters. He knows Jim’ll come after him, he always does, and try to explain, try to stop the train of thought they’re on. John doesn’t want to hear it. He’s seen the damning evidence already.


	6. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it just isn't enough.

They’re back to fighting again. John thinks that this fact really should surprise him, but what’s he’s not surprised that he’s not surprised at (and if that isn’t some sort of twisted convulsion of a sentence, he doesn’t know what is) is the fact that he misses Jim. One hell of a lot. Misses waking up to some sort of sexual overture by the perpetually horny blonde, misses the not-quite-casual brushes going about the day, misses throwing him out of his office for one thing or another. He even misses arguing with the brat. But one thing John’s not about to let happen is Jim getting hurt, at least at his hands. He’s just about given up on dissuading the captain from getting hurt on away missions (hell, even onboard). He’s not about to run his hands over the lithe body and see bruises, handprints or any other kind of injury because he’s unable to rein himself in. The incident in Sickbay only highlighted the fact, and it made John notice the other times building up to it.

And he hates himself a little more with each realization.

Sweat is pouring off his body in buckets, and if it weren’t for his ability to heal, his knuckles and hands would look like chopped meat by now. He doesn’t want to face Spock right now, because frankly, he thinks that he’d probably kill him. Screw his worries about destroyed punching bags. Even if Jim won’t cover for him, he’s pretty sure Spock will. And hell, even if no one covers, if they go looking for DNA evidence, they’re going to come right to his door, aren’t they? So they can all just shut the fuck up and let Reaper work out his frustration and self-pity on the damn punching bag.

These are apparently a lot sturdier then the ones back at the Academy, because it takes about an hour before John notices that there’s not really much there anymore, just a couple of scraps of material and a pile of it on the floor. “Dammit.” He swears. Looks like he’s done with that for the evening. It’s the first time he’s worked up a sweat in a long time though, so John doesn’t regret it in the least.

Jim wanders in about twenty minutes later to find Bones jogging around the perimeter of the gym on the track, shirtless. Sweat glistens on his torso, and lanks of his dark hair are stuck to his forehead. Jim swallows. This conversation was going to be hard enough as it was, but dealing with a sweaty and half naked Bones was going to make it even more difficult. Jim knows John knows he’s here, he’s proved his senses are acute enough to recognize that, so it’s obvious the doctor is ignoring him.

“Bones?”

The truth of the matter is, Jim doesn’t know if he CAN handle this. But he can’t lose Bones, because Jim doesn’t know how he would handle himself without his best friend who somewhere along the way became his lifeline. Jim’s never really needed anyone before, never relied on anyone beside himself. And to be honest with himself, it’s fucking terrifying. Since the moment he met Bones, Jim’s felt safe in a way he’s never felt before.

As a kid, his mom was always off planet, and his stepfather wasn’t the greatest person. Frank wasn’t a bad man, he was never cruel to Jim, but he wasn’t able to appropriately deal with two growing boys. After Sam left, something broke inside of him. The pressure to be his father’s son had always been stifling, but in the face of the disapproval he saw on his mother’s face when she learned her oldest had left had been too much. He’d never quite been that same kid after that.

Bones has finally given in to the inevitable, and has come over to see what Jim wants. Jim knows that Bones has never been the easiest man to get along with for anyone, with his perpetually grumpy and sardonic nature, but he’s known the stubborn asshole far too long to put up with it. Just as Bones is always willing to give him a good swift kick to the pants when he’s being stupid (A lot of the time, Jim is reluctant to admit) Jim won’t put up with anymore of Bones’ shit that is actually not just an act. He knows this man inside and out, and there is nothing Bones can do that will surprise him.

“I’m going to request a transfer Jim.” Bones says without looking at him.

Except that.

“I can’t stay around here, where now that you and Spock know about me, and where I’m fucking terrified I will hurt or kill you.” His voice doesn’t tremble, but it might as well have. Panic shoots through him, and while he’s not exactly sure if he can deal with this whole ‘Bones is superhuman’ thing, he knows that he has to keep Bones around no matter what.

They’ve always had each other, and Jim can’t imagine a life without Bones in it. Bones has always been there for him, in thick or in thin, and they might as well be married at times. Especially now that they’ve moved past the boundaries of friendship into something more, even if he hesitates to put a label on the fledgling whatever it is. Bones has always been there to remind him that he doesn’t have to be more then just a man, doesn’t have to always fill his father’s shoes. That sometimes, it’s okay to be vulnerable around people who care for him.

As much as Spock has become a part of his life since the mission began, he can never replace everything Bones is to Jim. He’d call them soulmates, if it didn’t make him sound like a teenage girl – something he is clearly not, no matter what Bones might accuse him of at times. While this whole extra chromosome thing REALLY freaks him out, it’s Bones. Anyone else and he’d probably be running in the other direction, but he knows him. Sure, maybe Bones has kept a few secrets over the years, but Jim still knows his heart.

“If you leave I’ll tell someone!” The moment the words leave Jim’s mouth, he grimaces. Sometimes, he really wished the filter between his mouth and his brain worked. John slowly spins to face him, deadly serious, and Jim swallows hard. “What did you say?” John hisses, eyes flat and unreadable. “I didn’t mean to, it just came out, oh god Bones…” Jim babbles, knowing that just might have been the last straw, and he’s worried Bones really will leave him. There’s a murderous look in the older man’s eyes, and when he turns and starts running again, it’s as clear a dismissal as any he’s ever seen.

Jim turns to leave, but he can’t help but steal one more grimace of his best friend and lover as he streaks around the track, so angry he doesn’t even think about what would happen if someone entered and saw him moving that fast.

When he comes up on the bridge the next morning and finds Bones there speaking to Uhura, his heart leaps with joy because maybe Bones is willing to forgive him. But it falls again, when he sees the serious look on his Communications Officer’s face, and the resigned one on Bones’. After a moment, Bones quietly thanks her, and leaves the Bridge without saying a word to Jim. The captain is so miserable at this, he doesn’t even notice Chekov and Sulu’s shocked expressions. “Ahead Warp 1 Mr. Sulu.” Jim says softly, and with none of his usual pep.

When a message comes through from the Admiralty that the Enterprise is to make a stop at Starbase Seven to drop off Lieutenant Commander McCoy and receive her new CMO, no one comments on the momentary breakdown of their captain. They don’t mention how it looked like Jim Kirk was about to cry, at least until he got ahold of himself, or how once the message ended the captain rushed from the room with a strangled ‘Spock you have the conn’. It’d be too painful for any and all parties involved.

And Bones doesn’t even say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know this is a really shitty place to end and I'm sorry. I have plans for a sequel; but it's only half done and I would prefer not to post it until I've finished it. I promise I will though; because there has to be a happy ending. Or at least, as close to one as Jim&Bones get.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments; you guys really made my nights!


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